Frigid Flora

twenty-seven - unwelcomed guest

Chapter Twenty-Seven

One of the things I disliked with a fierce passion was stereotypes. Who was to say that all alcoholics were vagrants? That every tall person played basketball? To state that men couldn't cry because it wasn't masculine or that a woman's intellect could never reach the high standards of a man's? It irritated me to no end, but I couldn't deny that I was sounding like a stereotypical girly girl having a nervous breakdown about their appearance for a date, because that was how I was acting, if not worse.

Perhaps I hated the thought even more when it was to do with me because I'd spent so long thinking of myself as something completely separate and detached from everyone else. I wasn't a stereotypical anything. I never really had been and didn't think I'd ever be. Yet I was, apparently, when prepping for a date.

Not that I was doing any of the prepping.

"Am I making this into too big of a hoo ha?" I asked the reflection of Skylar before me. She'd come to my house to help me get ready for my date with Parker and was currently doing something with my hair in front of the mirror.

She quirked an eyebrow up, perplexed. "Can I have that again in English please?"

"Am I, you know, making this into too big of a deal? I mean, he said it quite casually-"

"And with extremely short notice." Skylar butted in with a sigh.

"-and asked it like it was something ordinary." Aside from the vulnerable expression he'd got on his face when I'd taken too long to answer and I'd impulsively kissed him. Not that I told Skylar that part, of course. As far as she knew, the riskiest we'd ever been intimate-wise was holding and kissing hands. "He's probably been on loads of dates and I've only been on the one he wrecked."

"You know what I think of him. He's an ass. A good looking one, but still an ass. He doesn't deserve you and I still think you're a bit of an idiot for liking him. But if you like him, I'm happy for you." Skylar fiddled with my hair from behind. I think she was supposed to be straightening it but quite frankly she was doing a better job at burning the skin on the nape of my neck. At least that's what it felt like, anyway. "It could go great, a night filled with red rose petals and a dinner with Cupid sitting between you with his bow loaded; or it could be a catastrophe where you bump into a couple hundred of his ex-flings. Only you really know him. Only you will have the best idea of how the night will carry out."

I glared at her. "That was a really great pep talk, matey. Much appreciated."

"I'm not here to dish out pep talks, I'm here to spill truth tea and do your hair and make up."

"And roast me, apparently." I muttered. The straighteners clipped my ear and I yelped. "Woman, don't literally roast me! That's not cool."

"I still can't believe he's proposed a date on such short notice and without even saying where you're going. Doesn't he know that it takes a certain amount of time to get ready? That clues need to be given to know which way to dress?" She tutted under her breath as she set the straighteners down and switched them off. She turned me around to face her and started attacking me with brushes. "Remember the date I went on with Ben?"

I nodded and she flicked me on the nose, scalding me for moving. She set back to work soon after. "The one you said was a disaster?"

"We went go-karting, Flo," She sighed as though the memory pained her. He'd been her major crush in freshman year. Her next words were strained, as if it took great strength to relive this moment. "I wore a dress."

"So?"

"What do you mean so?" The brushes began to dab more forcefully and I made a mental note not to irritate or question her when she was armed with potential weapons as I sat with my eyes shut. "I was in a floating dress, sequinned and bejewelled, ready for an evening meal. Ben was wearing basketball shorts and an old shirt. The entire night was ruined because he kept telling me that what we were going to do would be a surprise."